weekend carb binge

Caveman and I took the inlaws on a tiny tour of a particularly delicious part of the city on Friday. We enjoyed our time and I hope they did as well. However, this episode of snacking on forbidden foods spurred a three-day feast of badness.

It doesn't really matter how I managed to justify it to myself. We in low-carb land all know that's just addict talk. However, some bit of good did come out of the binge: it reminded us why we don't want to do this.

I'll expound, in hopes of creating something I can read later on to dissuade myself from future so-called indulgence. (More accurately termed an "idiotic undermining of my more noble aspirations.")

So, here goes.

Within minutes of ingesting my first bit of bread, I was swimming in a sea of lights and sounds. My level of brain fog was moderate, but confusion was heavy. I was unable to expand my focus beyond the immediate task at hand. If someone were to shout, "Fire!" I would not have been aware.

After a few hours, my stomach started to hurt. The grumbles and groans began. These are the sorts of sensations and sounds most modern folk believe to be a part of normal digestion, but I'm no longer used to suffering these indignities. One doesn't need to do so. My limited experience with VLC tells me that digestion can be a gentle, efficient, soundless, painless process. That I would sacrifice good digestion for the sake of carbohydrate is a testimony to the addictive power of this macronutrient, I suppose.

By the end of the first day, I was depressed. I don't mean that I was disappointed in myself, rather, that my thoughts unavoidably turned to all things bleak and morose. My enjoyment in normal activities was diminished. Earworms and other repetitive strings of mental noise and clutter interfered with productive thinking. Socialization became more difficult.

By the end of the second day, my patience was wearing thin. I had to bite my tongue to keep from snapping at the caveboy. My tolerance for sound was lowered and I began to experience normal noises as physically painful. Stomach pains came and went. My muscles ached. I felt zits developing around my nose.

By the end of the third day, I was a mess. I cried, I yelled, I said awful and confusing things I didn't mean. I couldn't summon enough energy for the things I wanted to get done. I butchered simple sentences. For the first time in months, I had trouble taking a full, satisfying breath of air after meals (I am not sure of the exact reason behind this symptom, except that it relates to how my body processes carbs--especially carby foods with sugar--and is unrelated to the quantity consumed in one sitting). My heart pounded. While I felt physically full, I never felt satisfied. I went to bed feeling like barf personified.

Not a pretty picture. And, honestly, I was lucky. I've felt worse than this before.

Carb binging before you say goodbye to carbs is a bit like going to a strip club the night before your wedding. It's disrespectful to all involved, feels worse than you thought it would, and afterward--unless you're a complete dickweed--you wish you had never done it.

Yeah, hello.